Random Updates

Because I'm sure everyone is sitting around out there wondering what in the world is going on in the life of Jen Baxter, I thought I'd put you out of your misery and share some of the excitement with you. Well, at least one of the things I'm going to share is exciting. To me...

Fun Facts About My Life:

1. Finding Shemballah, the sequel to my first book, Laryn Rising, just went live on Amazon!!! (Abrupt end of excitement.) (But I personally am very, very, very excited :).

2. This is the second list of random facts I've written today. (To see the first, go here.)

3. My husband has a twenty-plus hour commute these days. To Wyoming. But...

4. ...his schedule is two weeks on, two weeks off, and I must say there's something to be said about having your husband home from work for two weeks at a time.

5. For instance, my husband loves to crockpot. And he does things like clean underneath the fridge, vacuum patterns into the carpet, and police the cleaning of the children's rooms when he's home for extended periods of time.

6. Number 5 is kind of awesome, and it definitely makes up for the two weeks of single-parenting craziness I go through when he's gone. Mostly. There was that week when my three boys (10, 13, 15) had eight basketball games between them... Definitely could have used some vacuuming and crockpotting that week!

7. Speaking of the number eight, my youngest child turns eight on Friday. Yikes. I kind of can't stand how old and big they're all getting.

8. About that. My oldest is 6'1 and weighs 195 lbs. He turned fifteen on tax day. My poor, poor, grocery bill. Well, actually it's getting money thrown at it all the time, and I'm the one who's poor around here. Let's all just pray that he won't have another growth spurt any time soon because I don't think my wallet can take it.

9. My thirteen-year-old son has 12 inch biceps. I do not know how this has happened. He's just a baby, for heaven's sake! Does he really need muscles already? And hairy legs???

10. And then there's my ten-year-old. The good news is that since I've already had two other ten-year-old boys, I am not worried that he is socially challenged. The obnoxiousness, the strange noises, and the sense of humor that only other ten-year-olds get are all out in full force, but this time I'm not panicking because I get it. And even if he does occasionally get a bit smelly as we venture into the world of manage-your-own-hygiene, I still love him to death. (What is it with ten-year-old boys and hygiene, anyway? I mean, shouldn't the use of soap in the shower be a given???)

And there you have it folks, my life all wrapped up in ten fun little facts. Hopefully, now that all those pressing questions you had about life in the Baxter household have been answered, you can relax and get back on track. And if you find yourself bored this week and in search of the perfect book (or books), I have the perfect suggestion...(see number 1 :).

My Non-Fairy-Tale-Like Tale

I was just reminded of an incident that happened to me back in my single days, and thought I'd share. Once upon a time...

When I was single, my dating life was practically non-existent. Particularly during my time at Ricks (College, that is). I attended Ricks for five semesters. The last was reserved for Math 101, Fit For Life, and Fine Arts 100. And a job so I could save money for BYU.

I was in the VL (virgin lips) club until that last semester. Sad, isn't it? And please do not congratulate me. I was not trying, okay? I mean at first it was fine, and I was all pure, and unwilling to kiss just any old guy (easy to be picky when there AREN'T any guys), but by the time that final semester came around, I have to admit I was feeling a little desperate.

Then, low and behold, within weeks of winter semester starting, someone actually asked me for my number. Stop the presses - THIS HAD NEVER HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE! How is that possible? you ask. How does an average looking girl who goes dancing, and plays basketball at the gym with DOZENS of guys all the time manage to repel men so completely that not one of them will ever have even the slightest desire to ask for her number? I have no idea. But we're straying off topic here. The point is, it had actually happened!

So the guy (whom I'll call Phil to protect the innocent) asks for my number. He's tall (6'5), nice looking, and a complete non-mutant as far as I could tell. So I of course handed my number over willingly - doing my best to act like it was something I did all the time.

We went out. Several times. After a week or two we kissed.

(BTW, I do not recommend kissing for the first time while standing outside in Rexburg-freezing-windchill-sub-zero-weather. Ever tried to talk when your lips are frozen? Yeah, kissing is even more difficult. It was kind of like kissing while wearing those red wax lips. Totally anti-climactic).

So now I was excited. I had a boyfriend. Unless you count Brad Johnson when I was eleven, this was a first.

And it gets even better.

It was almost February. I had already endured two non-boyfriend Valentine's Day's at Ricks College. Were my roommates and I the only ones who referred to this depressing holiday as "Single Awareness Day"? And to make matters even more pathetic, my maiden name was Valentine. How sad is that to be a Valentine and never have one?? Finally, I was going to have someone to give me some cute Valentine something, and smooch with on that stupid holiday.

The big day came. I waited in vain for flowers to be delivered, but finally it was 8:30 am and I had to go to class. No in-class deliveries, no note waiting for me at home, nothing.

Then he called.

He wanted to know if I wanted to hang out, since it was Valentine's Day, and all. He said he'd stop by after dinner.

True, I had entertained hopes he'd take me out for dinner, but whatever. The main thing was that I was going SOMEWHERE with SOMEONE. I was not going to complain.

7:00, the doorbell rings. I greet Phil at the door, and he says: "I thought we could take a walk."

Rexburg, February, freezing, no problem. No single-awareness-moping for me!

We walk the five blocks or so to Smith Park. We hold hands. We walk around the park. We talk. I'm sure we must have kissed, but for some reason I have no recollection. Then Phil starts telling me the following.

"I was at the grocery store today, and I almost bought you one of those roses they have at the register for $1. I actually picked it up. But then I thought about my last girlfriend. I went all out and spent money buying her a dozen red roses. Then we broke up. It just seemed like such a waste. I don't think material things should be part of a relationship, so I decided not to get you the rose."

Okay. This was fine. At this point, I was perfectly fine with the whole thing. I honestly didn't care that much whether he got me a flower, card, box of chocolates, or anything. I admit I was slightly bummed, but whatever. At least I wasn't alone.

Then he continued:

"I did, however, want to get you something, because I think you're really great. So... Here."

What was it? What did my romantic boyfriend give me? What sweet token of his love did he deem more meaningful than the $1 rose?

A green sweetheart. It said "You're #1".

Am I the only one who thinks that this was just wrong??? IF you're going to give your girlfriend one single sweetheart for Valentine's Day rather than the whole box, SURELY you could find one more suitable than "You're #1"??!!

How about "You're Sweet" or "Cutie" or even "Hug Me"?? Any of these could have been seen as a sweet, small, yet meaningful gesture that showed his affection, and illustrated his feelings.

And it was green.

Since when does the color green have anything to do with anything on Valentine's Day? If it had been pink, or even white with pink writing, that would have been something.

It was painful. I would like to add, however, that I handled the situation as graciously as possible, and even thanked him for his "thoughtful" gift. I probably even gave him a kiss, and said something I totally didn't mean, like "thank you so much! This is soooo sweet!" I even distinctly remember trying desperately to read some unwritten, secret meaning in the message that could in any way be interpreted as romantic.

Nothing came to me.

And I never had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day again. The next year I was in between relationships, and the year after that I was (miraculously) married. That stupid green sweetheart is the only token of Valentine's Day affection I ever received while my last name actually was "Valentine".

Is this just a little sad and pathetic, or is it just me? It just seems to me that there must have been at least a hundred other non-materialistic ways he could have chose to say "Happy Valentine's Day, girlfriend whose last name actually IS Valentine."

Without coming across as being a totally pathetic/apathetic boyfriend. Especially since I happen to know he actually really liked me.

Or maybe I'm just being really shallow, and I should be way more appreciative of my one Valentine-boyfriend experience. You tell me.